Educating Elizabeth (17 page)

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "I apologize for my mother's rudeness, Mr. Llewelyn. She has not been the same since Michael returned from the Peninsula in such poor condition."

"Excuse my bluntness, Miss Waterstone, but Michael is a fine and honorable man. If he were part of my family, I would be proud to welcome such a hero back."

Something dangerous flared in the depths of his eyes, making him look older and harsher.

Elizabeth hastened to reassure him. "I'm glad you are caring for Michael and I do wish to hear of his progress. If you have any problems with my mother, please don't hesitate to contact me." She handed him a copy of her address. "I think you will be an inspiration to him."

Mr. Llewelyn saluted her. "Hardly that, Miss Waterstone, but thank you for your confidence. And next time, please choose a drier place for us to meet." His eyes lit up with good humor. "Maybe Gunter's or a coffee house, somewhere warm, perhaps?"

Elizabeth laughed and fought to open her umbrella as they walked back out into the drizzle. "I do apologize, Mr. Llewelyn and I hope you don't catch cold. I promise I will choose a more suitable place next time. I will also see you at the Foresters' when I visit on Friday."

"Of course, Miss Waterstone, I look forward to it."

With a last bow, Mr. Llewelyn strode off across the park, seemingly oblivious to the rain that soaked his thick blond hair and the damage being done to his well-worn boots. Elizabeth sighed and turned in the opposite direction to begin her journey home. Her surprise at Jack Llewelyn's youth hadn't diminished. She had expected an older man, one who had completed his years of service with the army and had craved a familiar environment as an officer's aid. Jack Llewelyn had all the assurance of an officer, so why had he stopped serving, especially in this time of need?

His voice had been as cultured as her own and his manners as good as any gentleman of her acquaintance. He was a puzzle but thankfully not one she needed to unravel. She would talk to Michael on Friday and see how he felt about the mysterious Mr. Llewelyn. If Michael were satisfied, then she would be to.

She increased her pace, keen to reach the duke's mansion and sit down to breakfast. Her half boots squelched and slipped on the steep incline of the hill as she crossed the road. The sound of a solitary horse behind her made her veer toward the wall. The clatter of hooves on the wet cobblestones grew louder and Elizabeth half turned as the clamor seemed to concentrate directly behind her.

She gasped as the wind flipped her umbrella out of her grasp. Before she could retrieve it, the tip of the horseman's whip came to rest under her chin.

"Miss Waterstone. You are soaked to the skin."

She shuddered with a combination of relief and bone-shaking cold as she recognized the duke's stern face under the brim of his dripping hat.

"Your Grace." She tried to curtsey, but before she could recover her balance, the duke leaned forward, looped his arm around her waist and deposited her in his lap atop the horse. Her teeth chattered as his warm breath blew over her ear. He gathered the reins into one capable hand, unbuttoned his riding coat and drew Elizabeth against the warmth of his chest. She sighed as his heat permeated the sodden layers of her clothes. The horse moved in gentle rhythm beneath her as she relaxed into the security of his arms.

"You frightened me," she murmured against his shoulder.

"You deserve it. What the devil are you doing out at this hour of the morning?"

"Am I not allowed to walk in the park?"

"Why would you wish to do that in this weather?"

She turned away from him and refused to answer. What could she say? Her pride refused to reveal any details about Michael and the duke had no right to expect her to tell him everything.

At the stables the duke helped her get down and then touched his hat to her.

"It would please me greatly, Elizabeth, if you took yourself upstairs and had a bath."

She tried to gauge his mood, but his voice remained cool, his expression hidden in the shadows of his hat brim.

She decided to comply with his request and curtsied. "Yes, Your Grace."

*** *** ***

Gervase waited until Elizabeth reached the house and handed his horse over to his groom. He stripped off his gloves, removed his hat and gave his riding crop into Standish's waiting hands.

He strode up the main staircase deep in thought as he contemplated Elizabeth's behavior. If he had not chosen to ride in Hyde Park that morning, he would never have spotted Elizabeth emerging from the shelter of the trees or seen the man she appeared to have been conversing with.

As Jacques helped him remove his tight-fitting hessian boots and exclaimed over the state of his riding coat, Gervase continued to mull over the strange incident. He had to admit that it set all his instincts on edge. He had followed the young man whom Elizabeth had spoken to for a while. He seemed impoverished, judging from the state of his clothes. His battered coat had once been standard French army issue.

What in God's name was she up to? Gervase's mouth tightened as he recollected the sense of familiarity he witnessed between them. A stab of something he might have called possessiveness, if he cared to give it a name, flooded his gut. Was the man enamored of Elizabeth?

He ignored Jacques's complaints about the state of his clothing and headed for Elizabeth's room. He knew he must concentrate on his suspicions that Elizabeth was a spy, not on his own feelings. To his surprise it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate the two emotions.

Gervase breathed in a cloud of lily of the valley scent as he made his way to where Elizabeth lay, her back to the door, in the bathtub. Her damp brown hair was arranged on the top of her head in a loose knot, allowing small curls to fall to her shoulders. Without a word, Gervase knelt behind the bath and brought one of his hands up to caress Elizabeth's cheek.

Her startled shriek would have done justice to an enraged peacock. Gervase jumped backwards as a stream of water splashed over the side of the bath. His gaze slid down and followed the intriguing contours of her body. She made an ineffectual attempt to hide herself and then, catching his eye, her chin came up and she straightened her spine.

His smile widened in appreciation. "Very nice, my dear."

He bent to retrieve the bar of soap and weighed it in his palm. "It seems it is my turn to assist you with your bath." He invited her, with a courtly wave of his hand, to sit back down in the water. "Unless you would prefer me to call Jacques?"

Even her modestly bent head could not quite conceal the twitch of her lips. Gervase enjoyed the view of her long, swan-like neck and the sweet curve of her spine as she descended into the clouded water. He removed his silver serpent cuff links and black waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves.

At the first touch of her soft flesh against his soaped palms he was hard. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the textures and scents of her skin. She relaxed into his care as he smoothed the soap over the pointed peaks of her nipples and down toward her stomach. She scarcely murmured a protest as he reached lower and brushed his fingers between her legs, gently seeking access.

"Open your legs a little for me, my dear. I promise I will not hurt you."

Her thighs relaxed and he cupped her mound as his kisses deepened and her soapy hands crept around his neck. Without bothering to ask permission, he picked her up and carried her over to the bed, where a drying cloth waited.

*** *** ***

Elizabeth's eyes flickered open as the duke abandoned his lovemaking and started to dry her like a child. She murmured a protest and loped her arm around his neck to pull him closer.

He groaned and fell half on top of her. She used her fingers to pull at the back of his shirt, suddenly wanting to feel his naked skin against her own.

He allowed her to pull the shirt over his head and came back down to her. She murmured in appreciation as his muscled chest came into contact with her already-aroused breasts and pressed against him.

With a distant sense of surprise, Elizabeth realized she had missed him touching her. Despite her preoccupation with the code, she had regretted the interruption to her sensual lessons and now she understood why. He was like a drug, she thought dreamily. Her need for him increased every time he touched her. Thinking to please him, and show him she learned her lessons well, she moved her hand lower until her fingers came to rest over his straining breeches.

He captured her hand and trapped it beside her head. "Not yet, my dear. It is your turn first."

His hand slid between her legs and she gasped as she felt his fingers move over her most sensitive and womanly secrets. Her flesh yielded to him as if he belonged there. He settled into a rhythm, which had her straining against him, seeking something she didn't yet understand but she knew in her heart he could give her.

After a long while, he pulled slightly away from her and grimaced, as her nails remained dug into the flesh of his shoulder. "Elizabeth, you need to relax. You are trying too hard."

She tried to roll away from him, hide her face. "How can I be trying too hard when I don't even know what I'm seeking?"

"Would you rather I stopped? We can continue this lesson another day." He withdrew his hand from her warmth, flexing his fingers as if in pain.

"No." She said quietly, urgently, gripping his wrist and stopping him from going anywhere. "I want to know."

He leaned over her and traced the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. "There is another way I can help you." He breathed against her lips. "But I fear to shock my little brown bird."

Elizabeth wondered how he could possibly find anything more intimate to do to her. She lay naked on the bed with him half on top of her. He had already touched her in the most private of places. What else could he possibly do? "Shock me, please, Gervase."

His salacious smile should have warned her that she had erred as he kissed her mouth and then slid downwards. He paused to kiss her navel and the soft brown curls at the juncture of her thighs and then she felt the rasp of his unshaven cheek against her most private flesh. With a yelp of alarm she tried to sit up but he brought one arm across her hips to keep her in place.

As she stared speechlessly down at the top of his dark head, he looked up and smiled at her. "Prepare to be shocked,
ma femme
."

She could only close her eyes as his warm breath feathered over her and his fingers prepared her for the touch of his mouth. Her shock dissolved into pleasure that lapped and caressed at her senses like a warm tide. Her hips began to move in counterpart to his tongue and fingers and soon she clutched at his hair, as the excitement became almost too much.

She felt as if she hovered at the edge of a precipice and wasn't sure if she wanted to pull away or embrace the unknown which beckoned to her so alluringly. She almost screamed when he paused, leaving her teetering on the edge of...something.

His silver gaze locked with hers. "Do you want me to stop?"

A whimper of denial struggled through her tight throat. He bent back down to her throbbing and pleading flesh. She scarce had time to breathe as he demanded and controlled her response to him. His tongue flicked over her swollen bud and his fingers eased a little inside her, plunging and retreating until she pushed against the demands of his hands and clever, clever mouth. With a scream, she gave herself up to him as she experienced the force of her pleasure

He kept touching her and murmuring as she slid down from the ecstasy. When she quieted, he crawled up to lie alongside her. She buried her face in his shoulder, her feelings too raw and uncontrollable to allow him to see them.

After a long time, when she had half dozed off, he murmured, "Who was that man you were speaking to in the park?"

She opened her mouth to tell him about Jack Llewelyn and then quickly closed it. If she told him about Jack, she would have to tell him about Michael and she was not ready to expose her brother's weaknesses to the duke's cool, analytical gaze.

Had the duke thought to gain her confidences after leaving her half insensible from his lovemaking? She thought it more than likely. He reached out a hand and stroked her breast, his fingers forming and shaping her tightening nipple.

"Who was he, Elizabeth?"

She fought against her body's instant response to his touch and turned to brush a kiss on his shoulder. "I don't know who he was, Gervase. He stopped to ask me for the time and then very charmingly asked me for money." She allowed her hand to drop to the buttons of his breeches and eased them open. "Did you see him, then? Did he ask you for money too?"

He didn't reply as her fingers curled around his cock and she began to stroke him. Emboldened by his shuddering sigh, she slid her bare leg up his buckskin-clad thigh. She kissed him more deeply and pushed her body up against his as she pleasured him. With a muttered curse, his hand threaded into the back of her hair and he began to kiss her back.

Elizabeth bit the end of her quill pen and observed Sir John's bent head. He had been hard at work all morning and she had nothing to do. She had written to Eloise and her brother Hugh and couldn't think of anyone else with whom she wished to communicate.

Rain sheeted down, obscuring Grosvenor Square. She had finished her translation of the first three coded messages and they had been rushed away to the Foreign Office. Now she sat idly, waiting for another to be delivered.

She studied the man. Sir John hardly seemed to care whether his clothes fitted him or not, as opposed to the duke, who was meticulous in his demands for the most fashionable cut and style. The duke's muscular body reminded her of the apparently scandalous Greek statues on view at Carlton House.

She shook her head at her own foolishness. She was not in her boudoir but in her
other
place of work and Sir John would be scandalized if he could read her mind. Sometimes it was hard not to confuse her two professions, especially when the duke was around to distract her.